


Your Arms Around Me

by glitterpile, izzyisozaki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Humor, M/M, Promo, Russian Culture, okaeri zine, russian language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/pseuds/glitterpile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/pseuds/izzyisozaki
Summary: Okaeri zine fic, with art by izzyisozaki! Includes the three promo pieces + the full story, all set in post-canon St Petersburg.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Yuuri had just finished adjusting his cuffs when he felt Viktor drop the chosen tie around his neck. He looked down, smiling, quickly changing to a pout as Viktor’s hands stayed where they were and started tugging the tie into position.

“Viktor,” he chided, not really expecting a response. He could feel Viktor’s lips curve into a smile against his hair, and was sure that, yet again, Viktor would insist on doing his tie for him.

This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to discuss this with Viktor, so by now he was resigned to it. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the heat of Viktor’s chest pressed up against his back, the faint sounds of sliding silk as Viktor’s hands gently and steadily worked their way through the motions in front of his chest, Viktor’s arms flexing and shifting around him.

Right here, in this moment, surrounded by Viktor’s embrace, he wasn’t sure if he could ever feel more secure, or safe, or happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little promo! The above is an entirely bonus scene to the fic that only exists thanks to Izzy's gorgeous art - you can read the whole thing and see the full illustration when OKAERI gets released. My story will be in the [Dom | дом (SFW) edition](https://yoihomezine.tumblr.com/post/180534374080/editions), as it's based in St. Petersburg and has some cute Russian culture in it. :)


	2. Dog Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so- _baka_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had more ideas for ficlets related to my Okaeri piece, so you get more promos! The final story has Yuuri discovering some Russian culture and language in it so here’s a little bit of a taster. ;)
> 
> Also don’t be surprised if the chapter order gets shuffled once the fic is complete.

Yuuri swears he’s an actual adult, ok? He’s had enough birthdays for it. He’s moved out of home. He’s engaged. He just can’t help it that the slightest mention of a dog makes him act like a dog that’s just noticed a squirrel. Dogs are simply too cute to not pay attention to them.

And, well, you can’t possibly blame Yuuri-the-obsessed-Viktor-fanboy for trying to learn Russian at the age of thirteen. Sure, he didn’t get particularly far, but he was ready to try to talk to his idol if he ever got on an even footing with him, and impress him with knowing the Russian words for his idol’s favourite things. Which includes dogs, of course.

So really, it’s completely and utterly logical that, despite tuning out Viktor’s rapid-fire phone call with a sponsor in the background, he comes to attention when he hears the word _sobaka_ come out of Viktor’s mouth, and strains to understand the rest of the words in the conversation. As soon as Viktor hangs up, Yuuri has to check in:

“There’s a dog involved?”

Viktor turns to blink at him uncomprehendingly. “I… what?”

“I thought you said _sobaka_ , that’s dog in Russian, isn’t it?”

“Yes- oh!” Viktor grins, suddenly coming back to life. “Sorry, no dogs in this photo shoot. I was just confirming an email address. The “at” symbol that’s in email addresses — we call that a “dog” in Russia.”

Yuuri stares. “That… is possibly the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

He dives straight into his phone to try to confirm that Viktor isn’t lying, accompanied by his fiancé’s laughter and complaints of _”I think it’s cute!”_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more silly Russia content :3


	3. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you need to find luck is a little simple arithmetic...

“Are you seriously going out like that?”

Yuuri turns to see Viktor with a horrified expression on his face. He glances down at himself, thinking there might be a stain somewhere prominent, but everything seems fine, as far as he can tell. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”

“You told me you had a winter coat.” Viktor pulls open the hallway closet once again sharply, and starts rummaging through the back of it with a vengeance. Yuuri has barely any time to protest before a thick, stiff bundle of fabric gets pushed into his arms. “Here, use this one instead. Hopefully it’s not too dusty.”

Yuuri sighs a little and awkwardly extracts himself from his jacket, trying to keep the heavy coat aloft and off the floor. When he finally passes his jacket to Viktor and drops his arms into the coat sleeves, he suddenly thinks _oh_. 

He thought, living his life on ice rinks and spending multiple winters in Detroit, that he was used to the cold and not bothered by it much. But something like this, heavy and plush and holding onto a faint whiff of mustiness, must be the difference between merely tolerating negative temperatures and being actually comfortable in them.

He does up a single button to confirm that the coat fits, but leaves the rest undone while he is still standing in the warm hallway. Something about the shape of the fastenings dredges up a long-forgotten memory, and his brain decides to instantly drop it into the air between them, with no regard for Yuuri’s self-preservation. “...I think I saw you wearing this when you still had long hair.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches up, the way it always seems to when he’s reminded of Yuuri’s inner fanboy. “It’s a bit narrow in the shoulders for me now.”

Somewhere, between Viktor’s words and Yuuri’s twinges of embarrassment, Yuuri’s hands have drifted into the coat’s pockets, and he absentmindedly pulls out a small, crumpled _something_ that his roving fingers find in there, despite expecting them to be empty. He unfolds it — a tiny grey rectangle of cheap, flimsy paper with a few numbers and some Cyrillic printed on it. 

“Oh, a bus ticket!”

Yuuri looks up into Viktor’s face, surprised at how excited he seems to be about this ancient scrap. He lets Viktor pluck it from his fingers for a glance, and then turn it back to show him reverently. 

“You have to look at your bus tickets closely here, Yuuri. See how the first three digits have the same sum as the second three?” Viktor underlines his statement by pointing to the six numerals at the centre of the ticket. “That makes it a lucky ticket! And this one is extra lucky, because the numbers are a palindrome as well. I always used to save these when I came across one.”

Yuuri nods. The ticket number 872278 is definitely a lucky one by that measure. “So you just keep it in your pocket for luck?” asks Yuuri.

“No, you make a wish and eat it.” 

Yuuri chuckles. Nice try, Viktor, this sounds just like the time that Australian student tried to convince everyone back in college to smear Vegemite behind their ears. “I don’t really have any wishes right now.” 

“Suit yourself, then,” responds Viktor, and — nonononoNO, is he-? He just-? 

Yuuri stares at Viktor in uncomprehending disgust. The ticket now has a corner torn off it, which is evidently _in Viktor’s mouth why is this happening_. Being told that some people have a so-called “10 second rule” for food dropped on the floor was bad enough. “Viktor!!! That thing must be a decade old! You’ll get sick!” His words turn into a strangled gurgle in his throat as he watches Viktor grin and proceed to consume the entire rest of the ticket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a thing xD 
> 
> Don't forget to check out the rest of Okaeri!


	4. Of Spoons and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri thought that he knew all of Viktor’s quirks by the time they moved to St. Petersburg... but Viktor always manages to surprise him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we can post the full fic and art! This one was in the "Dom" edition of Okaeri zine! 
> 
> About a year ago I got the idea for this fic - a bit of a taste of what it means for a Russian to be "at home", and the little things floating around in our culture that I've grown up with. So, when Okaeri was announced I was super glad to participate since I already had something perfect for it, and I'm thrilled that Izzy agreed to collab with me and produce such a gorgeous piece of art to go alongside my story! Please enjoy <3333

Settling into a new home is something new for Yuuri. He's moved out of home before for skating, of course, but student dorms are a very different kind of place. This feels different, solid, permanent, like a piece of stone chipping off his heart and sinking to the bottom of a lake.

It takes Yuuri a while to feel comfortable in St. Petersburg. Having Viktor and Makkachin to come home to at the end of the day helps, with kisses and cosy hugs and bubbling laughter filling the space, but he knows he's going to be vigilant for a while, watching his sound level and keeping out of the way as much as he can. Viktor is different here, too; he's always been relaxed both in Hasetsu and whenever they travelled together, but in his hometown Viktor is truly comfortable in a way that Yuuri didn't realise he would notice. It's not a bad thing, but it's there, and it makes Yuuri watch Viktor more than he already does, to follow his lead and try to hurry along the adaptation process.

Viktor doesn't forget things very often. He's not like Yuuri, constantly getting flustered and overthinking things and letting his thoughts get away from him. Yuuri is certain that's why it takes several months for an awareness to rise, like an occasional buzzing mosquito, that Viktor takes longer than necessary to fetch forgotten objects.

It's not like Yuuri begrudges him the time, of course. Unless they're in a rush, because Yuuri overslept, or Yuuri forgot the time while caught up in a game, or Yuuri was too busy staring into space, marvelling at how he managed to do something right in his life to end up engaged to Viktor Nikiforov… well. The point is, at that point an extra ten seconds is probably irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

What really coalesces the background awareness into a single questioning chime is the time when, just as they've left the apartment and closed the door, Viktor suddenly taps his pockets, says “Wait, my gloves,” and turns around to unlock the door again. Yuuri holds it open for him, as Viktor grabs the gloves from the cabinet in the hallway… and… walks further into the apartment?

Yuuri waits, and then Viktor reappears and steps over the threshold again.

“Did you forget anything else?”

“No, I'm all good now,” Viktor pats the pockets the gloves disappeared into, and flashes a quick grin. “Let's go!”

It's a curiosity, nothing more, but with everything else that Yuuri needs to focus on that day it drops off his radar, and he probably would never think more of it, except that it happens again. And again. And again.

It's such a small thing and happens so rarely that Yuuri never feels sure about asking. In fact, he's not even sure that it's actually a thing, yet, and not just his mind creating hooks to latch onto unnecessarily. So when he hears Viktor enter the front door not one minute after he left to go to the shops and watches him walk clear across the apartment to glance at the mirror inside the bathroom, he feels somewhat vindicated.

Also, confused. Sure, Viktor cares about his appearance, but was it really necessary to check that every hair was still in place? Surely there wasn't enough time for anything to change when he's returning so soon. And the fact that Viktor doesn't always take the time to remove his shoes to walk through the apartment grates on Yuuri, considering how in every other situation Viktor is the first to distribute house slippers and wipe Makka’s paws after walks.

It takes about two weeks, and seeing it happen one more time, before Yuuri decides to make a suggestion.

“Viktor, let's get a hallway mirror.”

“Oh?” Viktor looks up from stirring his tea. “I suppose we should. I used to have one, actually, but Makka broke it a few years ago and I never got around to replacing it. Didn't you, Makka girl? Who's a big clumsy hippopotamus? It's you, isn't it?!”

By this point Makkachin had run up as soon as she heard her name and started jumping around at Viktor’s teasing, making Yuuri chuckle at both of them.

* * *

A mirror in the hallway solved the shoes-in-the-clean-apartment problem, but also generated new questions: now that the mirror was closer, Yuuri could see that normally Viktor barely gave it a glance, even when it might have been useful - like [when Viktor insisted on doing Yuuri’s tie for him](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105597/chapters/40227860). On the very rare occasions that Viktor forgot something and decided to return for it immediately, Yuuri only saw that same barest glance, accompanied by some muttered words, and did his best to not allow too much confusion to seep into his expression.

Googling turned out to not be particularly helpful in figuring out what he had heard, so Yuuri was forced to resort to other methods of investigation.

“Yurio, what does ‘ _choor menya_ ’ mean?”

“Huh? That's like really old Russian, isn't it? It's something like ‘protect me’, nobody says that sort of shit any more.”

Yuuri watches as the teenager dismissively returns his attention to his phone, and looks back out at Viktor on the rink in thought. Protect me? Odd. Strange. Maybe he misheard what Viktor was saying? Yuuri decides to wait and confirm before bringing it up to Viktor.  
  


  


* * *

Yuuri speaks up when they've left the building for a second time one evening and started walking down the street. “So, uh… who are you trying to protect yourself from?”

“What?” Viktor turns to look at Yuuri, a blank expression on his face.

“I heard you tell yourself that in the mirror just now…?”

Viktor’s brows draw together into a slightly indignant furrow. “Just now…? Oh, no, I'm not talking to myself.”

“Ah, really? Then what?”

“It's for the _domovoi_. You know, the Russian house spirit?” Viktor suddenly looks forward again, seeming somewhat sheepish. “It's a superstition, I guess. If you leave the house and then come back quickly and unexpectedly, the _domovoi_ might get angry because he wasn't expecting you to come back for a while.”

Yuuri lets the new information sink into his brain. “So you ask for protection from his anger?”

“I guess you could think of it that way. ‘ _Choor menya_ ’ can mean ‘ward me’ or ‘bless me’, but in this situation it's an apology. They hear you if you speak into the mirror. My father taught me about it when I was little and it stuck, I suppose.”

“I never heard you do it in Hasetsu, that's all,” explains Yuuri.

“Well of course not, why would Japanese houses have Russian spirits living in them?”

Yuuri smiles at Viktor’s confused tone. “I guess that's logical. So, what do _domovoi_ do when they're angry?”

“Uh. Well. They steal your teaspoons? Or make your milk curdle?” Viktor scratches at the back of his neck. Yuuri can barely stifle a giggle at the sheer mundanity. “Annoying household things.”

They walk for a short stretch in silence before Viktor speaks up again.

“I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“What?!” Yuuri stops dead and shakes his head rapidly. “No no no no no! It's fine! I just wanted to know about it, that's all. You don't need to change a thing.”

“Ok then, if you're sure.” Viktor smiles softly, gives their linked hands a squeeze and keeps walking.

* * *

“Ah, wait, I left the chocolates for Lilia in the kitchen!” Yuuri turns back and throws the rest of the words over his shoulder. “I'll grab them, you can go start the car!”

Yuuri scrambles up to their floor, scraping his key against the lock twice in his haste before successfully getting it in. Taking off his shoes as quickly as he can, he shoos a confused Makkachin out of the way and breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the red and gold box exactly where he hoped it would be on the bench. His shoes back on, and box in hand, still unjostled, Yuuri glances up and spots himself in the hallway mirror.

With a quiet “ _choor menya_ ” and a nod at his reflection, Yuuri steps out the door again, a soft smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanking you for supporting Okaeri and our story! We'd love to see what you thought in the comments <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider supporting the Okaeri zine — it is a charity only one! You can keep an eye on their [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoihomezine) or [tumblr](https://yoihomezine.tumblr.com) for updates. <3


End file.
